


This is How We Grow

by authoressjean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Disgustingly sweet, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Sam Winchester is gardening, Schmoop, Season/Series 11, Season/Series 12, That's it that's the plot, like maybe a hint of angst but not really, set in a nebulous time of seasons 11-12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: An offhand comment from Dean gives Sam an idea and, well, it's not a bad one. It's just that he has no real clue how to garden, but he'll figure it out and deal with Dean suddenly being weird all at the same time.It can't be that hard, can it?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 53
Kudos: 249





	This is How We Grow

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Angelica who's been looking forward to fluff for so long. I can too write something absolutely fluffy, and here's actual proof!
> 
> I actually DO garden, though not to the extent that Sam finds himself. They are, however, all ideas I've considered. Gardening is fun, gardening takes a lot of work, and only plant zucchini if you really like eating it or have people to give it to. Trust me.

The thing is, Sam doesn’t even mean to do anything like it. It’s not something he’s fantasized about since he was a kid, it wasn’t anything he took up in college, it’s hardly in any of the texts he reads. He’s got other crap going on; the last thing he needs is something more on his plate.

But when Dean complains to him that Sam’s constant pushing of vegetables and greens is starting to make him feel like they’re rabbits, and that he’s tired of dragging after Sam in the farmer’s markets, Sam throws his hands in the air. “What do you want me to do about it, Dean?” he asks incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Dean insists, then stands and heads to the fridge, presumably for a beer. “But I swear you could live surrounded by all those stalls of veggies. Just build your own damn garden already and be done with it!”

Sam rolls his eyes, Dean makes a face, and they eat, turning their attention to a case. Their usual routine and banter.

Except.

Well. The idea sticks, all right? And for once, Dean has an idea worth meriting.

After they go to bed, their next case planned out for the morning, Sam takes his laptop and starts looking into what he needs to build a garden.

* * *

Turns out, there’s a hell of a lot more than seeds, watering, and dirt. Irrigation channels and five different types of cabbage and what the hell region _are_ they, anyway?

He’s going to need help. For once, a book just isn’t cutting it.

After their case is wrapped up and they’re home, he takes off for the local farmer’s market which takes about forty minutes, and he starts talking to some of the farmers. They point him in the direction of an older woman, sitting under a tent, huge crates of radishes and zucchini and peppers surrounding her. It makes her sort of look like a harvest goddess.

She’s more than happy to chat, and Sam spends over an hour talking with Madeline, learning about where they are region-wise (Lebanon turns out to be in 5b) so that means he’s in luck for things like carrots and spinach, but cucumber and watermelon are going to be more delicate thanks to possible late frosts. “Rutabaga can be fickle,” she tells him. “Worth it, though. And mind your pumpkins.”

She gives him a handful of vegetable seeds in a few plastic bags for free, insisting that if he’s going to be a grower, starting fresh is important. “Go see Carl, up three tents. Talk to him about fruits. Then go talk to Annalise way on the other side. She sells her herbs all dried but she’s your best bet when it comes to growin’ ‘em.”

So he does, and they recommend seed companies, and Carl lets him taste the difference between the currants he has. Annalise talks to him about drying out the herbs once they’re grown, and how to start inside before moving outside. She suggests a windowsill but that’s the one thing Sam _doesn’t_ really have, so she recommends a growing light.

He heads home with fresh vegetables, fruits, herbs, bread from a local vendor, and honey for Cas. He also heads back with seeds and a plan.

* * *

Setting up isn’t hard to do. It’s May, so he needs to get on planting a lot of things and fast if he wants anything to happen this year. Lucky for him, if he gets a spot available, he’s golden. And he knows exactly where he wants to put it.

The ground above the bunker is filled with plenty of trees and some decent level ground that’s not too close to the water. He doesn’t put it closer to the water (it doesn’t exactly flood but it comes awful close) and instead starts tilling a small ten by ten plot. It takes…longer than he expected. Especially since he doesn’t exactly have a ton of gardening tools.

He calls Madeline with the number she gave him. After she stops laughing (which goes on for almost a solid three minutes, and honestly, it wasn’t _that_ funny) she tells him to stop being stupid and head to a local gardening center, and stay away from the big-name stores because they’ll gouge him on pricing. She gives him a list of tools and seeds and reminds him to get a viable water supply going now, like a hose with a sprayer on the end, or a rainwater system, or else he’s going to be lugging water up day in, day out.

He silently thanks Charlie yet again when they ring up everything and tells himself it’s an investment, one that’s going to pay off with fresh food when he gets it going. And that they’ll probably wind up using the hoe for decapitating something anyway.

Dean stops him when he comes in, giving him a second glance. “Where have you been? You’re…wow, dude, I wasn’t sure you could get that filthy.”

Okay, so Sam’s a little covered in dirt, but it’s not that bad. Probably. “I just went into town, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

He finds he wants to keep his garden a surprise, and if Dean finds out, well, there’s probably a lot of ribbing that’ll come his way. Besides, Dean wouldn’t care. “That’s all. Seriously. I picked up some more tools; they’re in the garage.”

Dean gives him a side-eye but finally just shrugs. “Seriously, go shower. You look like you rolled with a pig.”

“Bite me.”

* * *

Tilling’s a lot easier with the right tools. He decides on a rainwater system because a hose just isn’t going to cut it. The problem is, he doesn’t really know how to go about doing it, since he doesn’t have a roof either.

He finds a blogger who’s not far, someone who’s rigged up some boards and gutters and barrels, and the system looks a little more complex than Sam wants to attempt on his own. The blogger lives two states over in Denver, and better yet, he’s willing to meet and talk shop.

Heading into town to get supplies is one thing. Heading several states over for a couple of days is going to be harder to sell, so he pulls up his usual search engines and gets to work. There looks to be some sort of demon activity happening just outside the city, and it doesn’t look like a big problem. Perfect.

“I’ve got a case,” he tells Dean when his brother stops in and finds him packing. “Looks easy enough; it’s just over in Denver.”

“Cool, let me get my stuff,” Dean says, and before Sam can say anything, his brother’s headed to his own room.

Well. Crap.

It is a demon, and a ridiculously easy one between the two of them. They manage to save the woman it had taken hostage and its vessel, an elderly man. Both are grateful to them, and they give out their phone numbers, just in case they need someone to talk to. All in all, the case takes maybe two days.

It’s just enough time to go out and grab a coffee with the blogger, who’s more than happy to share some blueprints and ideas with Sam. He comes back with coffee for Dean and his mind spinning a million miles an hour. By the time they drive back to the bunker, he’s eager to get started, so when Dean says he’s going to watch Netflix to unwind, Sam’s happy to let him, and he heads outside to find where he wants his irrigation system.

It works great. Now he just needs to finish picking out his seeds.

* * *

He decides on celery, carrots, spinach, tomatoes, and onions. For fruits, he’s sticking with berries, and maybe think about trees later on. A lot of them look like they’ll work in their region. But Dean’s a berry lover through and through, so he’ll appreciate strawberries and blueberries. Maybe even some currants. Let’s face it, they all go in pies.

Except he doesn’t have many of the seeds he needs. Celery, he’s got, but the berries he doesn’t have, and he doesn’t have the tomatoes that Madeline let him taste. He asks her where she got her seeds.

The answer isn’t what he’s expecting. “A friend out in West Virginia has these wonderful heirloom tomatoes,” Madeline tells him. “That’s where I get ‘em. I go out there twice a year to visit and I get my tomatoes then. If I had any ripe enough, I’d spare you a few seeds. I’ll give you her contact info, you tell her I sent you.”

West Virginia’s far enough out that it’ll take another hunt to pull him in that direction. As it turns out, there’s a hunt about an hour away from where Cheryl lives with her heirloom tomatoes, and he can handle it, easy.

Especially when Dean shows up, ready to go. “I can handle this,” Sam insists. “Why don’t you and Cas stay here?”

“Cas is staying, yeah. I’m coming with you,” Dean says, and then he makes a little half-frown. “Unless you’d, uh, rather I don’t.”

Put it like that and of course Sam would rather have his brother by his side. “We can hit that stupid barbeque place you love so much on the way,” he says, and Dean lights up.

“It’s not stupid, it’s amazing. Probably life-changing.”

“Yeah, shortening it due to all the calories.”

“Listen, you want to live like a rabbit, that’s your choice. I’d rather live like a man.”

“That’s what I thought you were doing. Or is there something I don’t know-“

The smack upside the back of his head shouldn’t feel so good, but it puts a grin on his face all the way out of Nebraska. The grumbling from Dean doesn’t hurt.

It’s two demons, not one, and things get a little hairy, but they still limp away with only some blood and possible twisted ankles to show for it. Sam’s just grateful that Cheryl was willing to meet before the hunt so she doesn’t have to see him doing the walk of the injured. Dean makes fun of him for always having “lame injuries” and helps prop him up as they go back to the car.

They hit the same barbeque place _again_ on the way back. Sam’s even more grateful for the heirloom seeds tucked in his bag, because he needs vegetables or his arteries are going to explode.

* * *

It goes like that for a while: some feverfew and tulsi from Louisiana, some blueberries from Pennsylvania, even a few peaches from Georgia that he’s tempted to try. He always brings back some for Madeline who’s thrilled with his catches, and he shares with the other growers and farmers too.

The plants start under a growing light in one of the unused rooms of the bunker. He winds up spending a lot of his time there, and usually bumps into Dean on his way back to the main rooms. Dean’s always eager to pull him away to do random things like watch a new show, or engage in a shooting competition down at the gun range, so Sam makes sure he only leaves when he’s good and ready to let his seedlings be for a bit, because he won’t be back for hours. It’s inevitable and almost uncanny how Dean manages to occupy his time every time he leaves, and he really does mean _every time_.

But as much as he loves his gardening, he’ll never pass up time with Dean. Not during the precious moments of peace they have, when he can have his brother smile and laugh and be, for the first time in years, actually content and happy.

Though for some reason, Dean’s not always happy lately. He seems worried about something, guarded, and the frown between his brows lives there when he thinks Sam’s not looking. He tries to talk to Dean but Dean just gives him a fake smile and that’s as far as they get. Whatever's going on with Dean, his brother seems to be trying to deal with it himself.

It makes Sam all the more determined to get the berries going so he can pick some and make a fresh pie for Dean. Because his brother is going to lose his _mind_.

The plants get moved outside when they’re big enough and they start to grow. He stops spending his time inside and switches to outside, watching his garden slowly go from seedlings to actual plants. The ten by ten plot has expanded because of all the things he wants to try, and when the first fruits of his labor come in (which aren’t the actual fruits, but he’s not really surprised, he doesn’t have a lot of those still) he goes all out and makes every zucchini and tomato dish he can.

There’s a berry festival a few states away next month, and Sam’s super tempted to go. He’ll find another hunt; there’s always demons to cause trouble and he can take care of them, easy. Hell, maybe Dean would want to go with him. There’s bound to be pies.

* * *

There is a hunt near the festival. It’s a group of demons, and half of them take off the instant they see Sam and Dean. Sam has to chase them down with the exorcism and manages to get them to disperse. The other half throw Dean around before taking off. Even though Dean's the one that got tossed and Sam's fine, Dean insists on checking _him_ over and keeps watching him. Sam can't figure it out and hopes the festival the next day will pull Dean out of whatever he's worrying about.

Dean enjoys the festival, and Sam loves watching Dean’s eyes rove over every single type of dessert, because it just confirms that he needs to add a patch of blackberries somewhere, just for Dean. He’s not super fond of them but Dean’s never met a pie he didn’t like.

He’s in good spirits until they get home and find the other half of the demon group waiting for them. A struggle ensues in the garage and Dean winds up breaking the hoe over one of the demon’s heads because that was, of course, the closest thing he could find at the time. He doesn’t understand why Sam gets pissed and takes off for a walk. Sam takes the little blackberry bush he bought with him and plants it where it’ll get nicely irrigated but not drowned.

Dean lets him pick the show that night and he figures it’s as good an apology as any. Especially since Dean doesn’t have the foggiest as to _why_ breaking the hoe made him so mad (or probably why they have a hoe to begin with). He even makes Sam’s favorite type of popcorn, the extra-buttery kind that he doesn’t like as much, and seems so damn eager to keep Sam happy that Sam finally lets it go.

But still, c’mon. What are the odds?

* * *

He’s searching for different types of cherry tomatoes about a week later (because there’s more than one type and he’s super interested in trying them all) when Dean comes over. “What are you doing?” he asks. There’s a frown ready to form on his brow again, and the worried face is back. “Another hunt?”

Sam switches out his tabs, pulls the next possible demon hunt up, and puts on his most “I’m invested in what I’m researching which is clearly not the best type of tomatoes for my region” face. “Just research,” he says. “Why, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Dean’s face doesn’t relax when he sees Sam’s screen – instead, he looks even more worried and possibly…scared? Sam frowns. “Dean?”

Dean looks more uncertain than Sam has ever seen him before, and when he finally meets Sam’s eyes, there is definitely fear in his eyes, but also a healthy heap of either guilt or self-recrimination. Neither are a good look on his brother, and Sam’s baffled as to what caused it. “Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dean says. “You gonna talk to me?”

Sometimes it feels like all Sam _does_ is talk to Dean. It’s not like he’s got a lot of other options for an outlet. Well, except about the garden. “I’m missing something,” he says slowly. “You want to fill in a few pieces for me here?”

Dean takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, like he’s bracing for a blow. When he does finally get his words out, they’re rushed and jumbled and not at all what Sam expected to hear. “Why are you looking up demon hunts, Sam?”

Sam squints at him. “Because they’re causing problems, even more so these days?” They had a good run for a while after Abaddon was quelled, but, well, it couldn’t last forever.

“Yeah, but there have to be other hunts. So why demon ones, and why so many? I mean, you’ve dragged us all over the country for some of these.”

Never did Sam think he’d see the day when Dean Winchester complained about hunting, but here they are. “Are you…seriously upset that we’re not hunting, what, werewolves or poltergeists? Dean-“

“I need to know if you’re chasing demons for a reason,” Dean blurts out, and he flinches as he says it. “Because I know I haven’t given you a hell of a lot of reason to talk to me about this, I know I screwed you over twice-“

Oh god. Oh _no_. “Dean, no-“

“But if you’ve fallen off the wagon, I…I’ll be there, Sammy,” Dean says, and he’s so sincere, so earnest, and oh god, of all the things Sam could imagine, this was nowhere near any of the options. “I swear to god I’ll do it right this time. I won’t leave you alone.”

It’s heartbreaking as much as it is heartwarming, to see Dean standing in front of him, afraid for Sam and so determined to do the right thing, even if it means one of the worst things Dean can imagine. But he’ll do it, because he doesn’t want to do what he did before. He doesn’t want to leave Sam to sweat it out on his own.

Sam swallows past the knot in his throat and manages to find words. “I’m not drinking demon blood again, Dean.”

Dean fights to maintain his composure. “Look, I swear you can talk to me about this, all right? I’m not going to be a dick about this, I get it, it’s hard, and I understand that. I mean, I haven’t had any but I remember the way the Mark took me over so I get it, I finally _get it_ , okay? So just tell me-“

“A garden,” Sam interrupts. Dean’s impassioned speech grinds to a halt. Sam’s face feels like it’s exposed to flames.

There’s a moment where Dean’s clearly trying to switch gears and try again. “A what?” is all Dean gets out.

No, exposed to flames was being too generous: Sam feels like he _is_ on fire, and he uncomfortably knows what that feels like. “A garden,” he says, and he clears his throat. “I’m, I’m building a garden.”

The words _what the actual hell_ are clearly running past his brother’s mind, and it’s in every bit of his face, too. But so is relief and it does something to a part of Sam that still sort of believes that his big brother thinks he’s not worth the effort, something akin to stomping all over it because this, this is Dean, his ridiculous older brother who puts two and two together and gets thirteen and a half but does it on Sam’s behalf. His big brother who just came out and told Sam if he’s fallen off the wagon that he’ll be there. _I swear to god I’ll do it right this time._

It gives him the words when Dean still can’t seem to switch completely off of _what the hell seriously a goddamn garden._ “I, uh, I’ve been looking up different sorts of plants, trying to establish what would grow best here in the soil, and yeah, the Midwest is known for all sorts of crops but some things need shade, some things need damp conditions. I’ve been picking the brains of several farmers and growers and getting seeds from them but they’re sort of spread out, so, uh-“

He sees the light bulb flash above Dean’s head, and Dean just. Lowers his face, straight into his palm. There’s a snorfling sound that Sam can’t quite interpret, something between nose blowing and hiccuping. “You found hunts where you wanted to go,” Dean says. It’s all muffled. “And they just happened to be demonic.”

All right, so maybe Sam _has_ been eager to get to a few of the markets and farms, to talk to people, to discuss irrigation techniques and find the seeds he needs. But c’mon, his brother can’t be _that_ dense. “Didn’t you notice I haven’t been dragging you to the farmer’s market in town for the past few months?” Sam asks.

Dean raises his head and stares at Sam. Sam fights the urge to shift in his seat. “A garden,” Dean says yet again.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “A garden.”

Dean shakes his head, but the sudden, stupid grin on his face is all fondness. “What you meant to say was that you haven’t dragged me to our _local_ farmer’s market,” he says.

Sam smiles back, relieved. “Want to see it?”

“I’m sort of afraid to ask where the hell you put it.”

* * *

So he’s sort of worried about showing Dean his plot, which, thinking about all of the gardens and farms he’s been to, isn’t much at all. It’s not anywhere near even a quarter of an acre in size (because that ten by ten got blown out of the water a _long_ time ago) but he’s got more mostly tilled. He’d go a lot faster if he had a machine but his hands will have to do. Which he hasn’t been able to do for a while because he still hasn’t gotten a new hoe.

Not that Dean’s going to care about the size of the plot, but still, Sam feels like a kid showing off his report card and hoping that the A is good enough, even though it’s not an A+.

“So this is where you disappear to,” Dean says. His eyes seem to be moving over everything in quick succession. “You were disappearing inside for a while but I never figured out where.”

Guess Dean _has_ been paying some attention, except he’s been thinking it’s Sam slipping away to drink demon blood. “I had the seedlings inside until they got bigger. I wasn’t doing…that,” Sam says lamely.

“I know,” Dean says, easily, like he has every faith in Sam and it’s seriously starting to mess with that tiny, disparaging voice. “I just…It wasn’t handled right. You deserved better.”

He glances over at Sam and suddenly smirks. “Apparently I’ve been unwittingly aiding you in a different kind of obsession.”

“Shut up.”

“There are four different pictures of tomatoes here, Sam.”

“And?”

“There are four different types of tomatoes planted here, aren’t there.”

“They’re all different for a reason! Look, those BLTs you lost your mind over last week? It was this tomato right here-“

And Sam’s off, his mind way ahead of his mouth as he goes over his various plants. Potatoes for Dean (the fiend, they don’t really count as a vegetable any more than ketchup counts as jelly), zucchini for Cas even though it’s threatening to take over the entire damn patch over there, cucumbers next to the heirloom tomatoes that they went to West Virginia for, and he’s got space for beans if they want to, but he just hasn’t figured out which ones are worth their time, and he’s still not sure about an orchard but he really wants one.

It’s a bit later when he realizes he’s been standing and gesturing and talking for a while and Dean hasn’t said a peep. Dean hasn’t said anything because he’s too busy watching Sam, that same fondness back on his face but it’s softer now. More subdued. And the look in his eyes is that of a proud parent who’s been faced with the knowledge yet again that their kid is amazing.

Sam blushes straight to his ears. “What?” he says, almost snapping in his embarrassment.

Dean just raises an eyebrow. “You do know that you’re not going to be able to eat everything here before it goes bad, right? There’s a reason farmers sell their stuff at markets.”

“I was thinking about canning it,” Sam says, because yeah, he can make salsa and marinara sauce with all of the herbs he’s got. Most of those are still inside where they’re doing just fine. “We’ll have enough to keep you in salsa and spaghetti sauce all winter.”

“Yeah, and speaking of the colder weather that’s coming, you know you’re going to lose your plants in the winter, right? First frost, that’ll be the end of most of these.”

That gets a pause because of course he knew that, logically, it’s been in his head, but another part of him just hadn’t grasped that concept yet. “Other growers don’t,” he says, but his patch looks decidedly more fragile now. Maybe he can move them inside…he has an angel to help, it can’t be that hard, right?

“Yeah, well, other growers are doing this full time, they’re not hunting, and they’ve got the setup for it.” Dean stops for a minute and suddenly looks thoughtful. That or suspicious; Sam’s got a hard time telling them apart. Maybe suspicious of his own thoughts?

Okay, clearly Sam needs a break and some sleep. Still, after everything, it’s important that he says one last thing. “It means a lot.”

It catches his brother’s attention. Sam clears his throat. “Even though I’m definitely not doing…that. It means a lot to me. That you’d be here if it happened again. I’ve given you a lot of reason to doubt me over the years but you’re still here and…”

The words sort of clog up in his throat and no amount of clearing is going to jar them loose. “Just…thanks,” he manages to get out, voice rough.

Dean’s watching him with that same quiet look as before. The one that makes Sam feel like a hero and so damn unworthy all at the same time. He gets a hand to his shoulder, a solid and firm acknowledgement and a promise. They stand together for a minute, watching the wind rustle the leaves on the plants. There’s a few more zucchini to plant – that woman from Indiana had been right about them producing more than he can possibly continue to use all at once. They’re almost as bad as the mint.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and uses it to tug him back inside. “C’mon. We really should probably deal with that demon case you found.”

* * *

Three weeks later, Dean hands him a pamphlet for… “Is this a farmer’s market?”

“Better,” Dean tells him. “It’s a cranberry festival. I know it's October in Wisconsin, but just bundle up. You should go.”

Sam’s standing and heading towards his room before he realizes the word choice. “Just me?” he asks. “C’mon, I won’t drag you around all day-“

“I’ve got other plans,” Dean assures him with a grin. “Go do your thing. I’ll see you in a few days.”

With an invitation like that, how is Sam supposed to refuse? He grabs Dean in a quick embrace before he leaves, just because he can, and Dean returns it before nudging him towards the garage. “Take the truck, I know you’re going to want to bring stuff back with you and I do _not_ want dirt in the Impala again.”

“That was one time,” Sam grouses but he goes.

The cranberry festival in Wisconsin is delicious and he gets invited to an actual cranberry farm where he wades in with a grin. He’s got a few contacts for “down the road” and he takes the opportunity of the weekend to hit up a few more local farmer’s markets on the way back. He arrives back at the bunker, laden with a host of seeds and plants for him, honey for Castiel, and every kind of cranberry dessert for Dean.

Except when he gets back, they’re nowhere to be found. He checks his phone, just in case, but there’s been no calls outside of the ones they shared each night chatting about their day and covertly checking in on each other. (Some habits just can’t be broken, and making sure the other isn’t using a code word for ‘help’ is one of them.) No texts outside of Dean’s last one, “bring me back cheesecake or I’ll disown you” that sounded threatening enough for Sam to consider valid.

“Dean?” he calls. “Cas? Anybody home?”

Nothing. He checks the various rooms after he puts the desserts away but gets nowhere. Whatever Dean’s plans were for the weekend, they didn’t involve hanging around the bunker. Fine; if Dean’s going to be gone, then Sam’s not wasting time. He changes into what Dean’s now referring to as his “jolly green giant” clothes, then heads outside to the garden.

He sees it before he finishes cresting the hill, and it spurs him up to the top, where he stands, gaping, at the monstrosity of clear plastic and what looks like iron bars. “What the-?”

Dean’s head pokes around a side when he hears Sam’s voice and his brother mutters something uncomplimentary. “This was supposed to be done before you got back,” he complains. “What’d you do, race back?”

“Well, you were threatening to disown me, so,” but that’s about as far as he gets before he has to ask. “Dean, what the hell is this?”

There’s a grunt and then Dean and Castiel both appear from behind a huge sheet of cloudy plastic. Castiel moves towards another post and pulls it upright, and the sheeting extends to follow it, creating a firm wall. A wall that is surrounding three quarters of his garden, which is no small feat, given how large it’s gotten.

Dean is absolutely filthy but doesn’t seem to care, given the grin on his face. “You like it?”

“I’d like it a heck of a lot more if I knew what it was in the first place.”

His brother just raises an eyebrow. “It’s a greenhouse. It’s not the world’s prettiest, I’ll give you that, but it’ll keep everything inside safe when the weather goes to crap.”

Sam stares beyond him at the amount of steel involved and isn’t at all surprised to see that the sides _do_ have a solid bar of iron on them, and it’s probably all consecrated and blessed by their resident angel. Safe for Sam to plan and garden in peace, no matter the weather.

Dean’s talking about how to keep the temperature at the right place and how he’s got a plan to house the rainwater so it won’t freeze, and that there’s room to add plants if Sam wants, and Sam just turns and pulls him into the tightest hug he can. Dean falters for a second before he returns it, and Sam doesn’t even care that he’s now covered in sweat and dirt and god knows what else. Because his big brother built him a greenhouse. His big brother, who was willing to help him detox again, who’s helped him garden and harvest and cook everything they bring in, built him a greenhouse that’ll keep him and his plants safe.

His eyes burn a little but he figures his smile will catch anything that actually falls.

They separate and turn to look at the greenhouse together. The last part of the framing left is the back, where Castiel is still trying to figure out how to get the pole to work. “Need a hand?” Sam asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Dean mutters, but he nods. “Yeah, why not.”

Before Sam can step away towards Castiel, however, Dean catches him by the elbow. “Here,” and Dean hands him a plastic baggie. “I’ve got seeds for you to plant.”

Sam takes the bag, startled, and takes a peek at what’s inside. It’s a good minute before he realizes just _what_ he’s staring at. “These are bacon bits, Dean.”

“Bacon _seeds_ ,” Dean corrects with a grin. “Plant ‘em, bitch.”

“I can’t plant these, jerk.”

“That’s not where bacon comes from, Dean,” Castiel adds in dryly. He’s got the post in hand and upright and is clearly just waiting for Dean to come help him. “And I don’t think there’s room up here for pigs, too.”

“Killjoys,” Dean mutters and goes over to help. “Plant them, Sammy!” he calls over his shoulder.

Sam watches the two of them work to get the post in, ensuring the other rods are held together, carefully avoiding the row of spinach they’re working near. And that’s when Sam suddenly feels more loved than he’s ever felt in his life.

Sam stares at the baggie, then pauses. For the second time now, Dean may have a decent idea.

* * *

When the greenhouse is finished, Sam drags Dean up to help him gather veggies and fruits and points him to the back corner where there’s a sign proclaiming the row to contain bacon. When Dean finds the pork rinds placed in the ground, Sam just shrugs and tells him, “Guess you got the wrong seeds.”

It’s worth it for the way Dean laughs so hard he falls to the ground, almost unable to breathe. The bonus, Castiel’s face when Dean cheerfully brings in his “harvest” and sets the pork rinds on the table, is enough to set Sam off until there’s tears in his eyes and his sides hurt.

The greenhouse works fine. The plants keep them fed all winter long. Dean even helps from time to time. Castiel starts talking about beehives. Jody sends him seeds from a friend who specializes in squash and tells him she’ll take any extra veggies off his hands. They find a hunt that’ll let them pass her and drop off a huge crate of zucchini and celery on the way.

It’s not the normal life he expected to get. He thinks that this, using hunts to get them to farmer’s markets and gardens, digging in the soil alongside his big brother, Dean ordering him seeds and soil and talking about expanding the greenhouse, this is way better.


End file.
